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Everybody’s Overdoing It
[Provoked by having heard, in a single week, “That Beautiful Tune,” ‘‘Alexander’s Ragtime Band,” “That Swaying Harmony,” “Banjo Tunes,” “That Mesmerizing Mendelssohn Tune,” “Play Dat Barbershop Chord,” “Rum Tum Tiddle,” “Pick, Pick, Pick on the Mandolin,” “That Haunting Melody,” “That Coontown Quartette,” “I Love to Hear an Irish Band Play on St. Patrick’s Day,” “That Slippery Slide Trombone,” “The Ragtime Violin,” “That Mysterious Rag,” “Mello-Cello Melody,” “That Raggedy Rag,” “That Chicken Glide,” “That Dramatic Rag,” “That Italian Serenade” and ‘‘Brass Band Ephraim Jones.’’]
Whenever I go to a vo-da-vil show—
A thing that I frequently do—
The stunts that I see which are pleasing to me
Are painfully, fearfully few.
The acrobats eight are an act that I hate;
The monkeys and dogs I detest.
And the comedy kind that are known as refined
Are as dull as an almanac jest.
But of all the sad things that variety brings
The worst of the wearisome throng
Is the fury and craze of these “musical” days:
The song that entreats for a song.
A thing that I frequently do—
The stunts that I see which are pleasing to me
Are painfully, fearfully few.
The acrobats eight are an act that I hate;
The monkeys and dogs I detest.
And the comedy kind that are known as refined
Are as dull as an almanac jest.
But of all the sad things that variety brings
The worst of the wearisome throng
Is the fury and craze of these “musical” days:
The song that entreats for a song.
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